Pants
by disillusionist9
Summary: Draco is caught lounging when Harry comes home in some choice trousers. Drarry, humor, no smut, rated for language and some sexual content, tumblr prompt from 'padaleckipatronus'.


_Happy Birthday, Harry Potter (and JKR). One shot, complete._

* * *

Draco stretched and arched his back against the arm of the couch, groaning happily as he heard a series of cracks and sweet relief coursed over his back.

He hated falling asleep in the living room as much as he loved it; the natural feeling of letting your head fall back against the couch without even realizing what was happening, and your book falling closed over your thumb to hold your place, to wake up minutes or hours later, groggy and confused and probably with terrible breath from your mouth hanging open, but rested. There was no way to tell without casting a _tempus_ how long he'd been out, but he was sure it was time to bring out the lamb and wash the potatoes for their dinner.

Scratching at his chin, he realized he also hadn't shaved that morning. He would need to do that while the meat braised. His bare chest, the only way to laze around the flat in the heat of July, would also need to be covered unless he wanted to repeat the _Breakfast Incident_.

"Draco?"

"Holy _shit_ -!"

Draco tumbled off the couch at the sound of his own name, arms and legs akimbo as he caught the lip of the coffee table with his nose on the way down to the hardwood floor. His pants twisted around his ankles and fell down further around his hips, but he didn't want to move _anyway._ Groaning in pain, he grasped at his face to feel a trickle of blood coming from somewhere near his likely ruined nose.

Harry stood at the opposite end of the living room, his keys and wand in one hand dangling lamely at his side, but his other hand was pointing at Draco, where he lay sprawled on the floor. His face, tanned from hours in the sun running Auror drills, was gaping at him, his lips parted just enough Draco could see his teeth.

"What," he cleared his throat, "what are you _wearing_?"

"Is that really the question you should be asking right now-"

Fuck.

Draco stopped himself as he looked down at the pants he'd been lounging in all day. Bright. Floral _and_ stripes. A soft polyester spandex blend sinfully soft and also…incredibly revealing.

The pants he swore he'd never let anyone else see. Ever.

A soft rumbling started in the direction Harry was standing, and though it made a little drop of blood from his nose land on the floor, Draco whipped his head around to glare at him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, the keys jingling and his wand letting off a few tiny gold sparks, Harry pinched his lips together to stop the laughter bubbling up inside of him. "I swear I won't", he said, referencing his own laughter, and crossing his heart with his free hand. Voice still strained, though threaded with guilt over the physical pain Draco was likely in, he said, "Want me to fix your nose…we know you're… _pants_ at doing it yourself!"

Draco scrambled to standing and fixed Harry with his most scathing glare, almost tripping over the soft stretchy material fluttering around his ankles, and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Harry choked out a few laughs before he burst from holding them in. Counting to ten, knowing he had to fix this immediately, he caught his breath and calmed himself down to a point where he could speak to Draco without busting out with laughter.

"Draco?" he called through the door. "I am sorry, love."

Nothing. Not that he expected an answer yet.

Scratching at his scalp he looked around the apartment as if it would give him a clue what to say. "You looked fit, you know…uh, the pants made you-"

Draco threw open the door, which thankfully for the protection of Harry's face opened into the room, and stood glaring at his boyfriend. Starkers. Completely starkers.

"…but this is _also_ a very good look." Unconsciously Harry's eyes drifted from Draco's taped nose with a bit of dried blood on one side, down to the slim collarbones and chest and down towards-

"Rude to stare, Potter," Draco's voice accused, one hand on his hip as he unabashedly stood there in all his glory.

 _And what glory_ , Harry thought to himself, licking his lips.

"It's my birthday," he reasoned breathlessly, holding out a hand towards Draco's exposed hip, wishing to trace one of the little scars there.

A hand slapped his away. "You _laughed_ at me. I believe that cancels out birthday privileges."

Groaning with extreme affectation, Harry put his hand out again, but stopped when he felt the ghost of magic whisper around his ankles.

But then Harry realized that Draco is smirking, an evil twisted little thing that betrays that the blonde finds something very funny at Harry's expense. Harry feels the color drain from his face…oh no…surely not

The pants. He had _magicked the pants on him_.

They were as comfortable as they were absurd. So absurd he was sure he'd seen clowns with better fashion sense.

Draco stood there, still naked as the day he was born, folding his arms and smirking in that self-satisfied way that drove Harry up the wall most days, but never complained about when he wore it after a particularly sweaty sheet-rumpling night. Harry stood there with his red t-shirt and the pants, wondering in the back of his mind if Draco had completely vanished his jeans in retaliation, and held his hands out like a child learning to ice-skate. Then he moved a bit and felt the cool fabric glide over his legs and his groin and maybe Draco wasn't crazy after all…

"Huh," he said under his breath, still looking down at the ludicrous pattern. Testing the weight and movement of the fabric, he wiggled his hips, and noticed how the pants definitely were indecent for public wear. A wicked smirk bloomed on his face as he looked up to Draco.

As the sides of Harry's mouth tilted further upward, Draco's started to stutter and fall, the confidence falling to slight horror. He watched as Harry kept moving his hips, putting more purpose behind the swinging and jerking, so he looked less like a man with a finger in a light socket.

One hip jerk. Then another, and another, and Harry was full-out _twerking_ around their apartment, letting the pants swish and sway around his ankles.

"Potter! Don't you _dare_ , those are my pants and if you ruin them-"

Cackling joyously, Harry started screaming this was the best birthday ever, as Draco chased him around the flat with his arms outstretched.


End file.
